Chapter 7: The Pack

Everybody needs to fit in to something. Even the outcasts.

One of the Elders held up their hand and signaled for calm, which was almost immediately achieved, before addressing the four newly honored Garou. "You have passed your Rites of Passage and are now full blooded members of Gaia's warriors. With his achievement comes new responsibilities and duties. We recommend that the four of you now become a pack. This will require you to both acquire a pack totem and a territory, as you should know from your studies."

Werewolves were half wolf and thus had many of a wolf's mentalities. They were social creatures (at least with their own kind, they were) and lived their lives as part of small groups known as packs. The bonds a Garou had with their pack were much stronger than the bond they had with their tribe or Sept, and as strong as or even stronger than the bonds they had with their families. A pack of Werewolves could combine resources and strength and fight much better than a single werewolf on their own, forcing even Mark to see the benefit of joining a pack. At least, there would be a benefit if one was actually going to believe in this whole thing and fight against the Wyrm and not abandon the pack at the first opportunity to go home, which Mark was planning to do.

Werewolves were also half spirit. They traveled both the physical world and the Umbra, the latter of which was extremely dangerous. To survive, a pact needed to be made with a powerful spirit, a Pack Totem, who would agree to fight alongside and protect the Garou in exchange for services and loyalty.

Finally, a Werewolf needed a Territory, a place to live and a place to protect.

The Elder continued speaking and dropped a bombshell. "If you do decide to become a pack together, then the Elders have decreed that we introduce an additional member."

Matthew blinked "What – there's a new person? Like us? But we didn't see anybody else our own age in the Sept, or anywhere."

"This additional member is not from the Cairn of the Wolverine, or indeed even from this land. You may think of her as ... an exchange student. You will meet her tomorrow. But for now..." the Elder turned to the crowd of Garou watching and raised his hand. "We celebrate!"

Everybody in the crowd immediately transformed into 9 foot nightmare walking death beasts and began to party. Loud disco music began to play and werewolves began to do something vaguely resembling break dancing, except that it involved a lot less dancing and a lot more breaking. Mark, who was still in his ordinary human form, stared first at his partying fellow Cliaths, then stared at the crowd of partying werewolves in disbelief.

WHAT.

"Come on, Warrior of Ice!" Matthew called to him from where he was dancing. "Let's celebrate."

"No," Mark answered him as he began to look for a way to escape. The loud music made it hard to think and all of the Garou dancing made him uneasy. He wished he was an immortal deity with the power to kill the lot of them.

Outside it was quieter, thank goodness. Logan was a small town, consisting of little more than the pub and surrounding farmsteads and houses, but almost all of its population was Garou born. That did not, however, mean that all of them were actual Garou werewolves. In fact, the vast majority of the people were not capable of shape shifting at all, but were little more than ordinary humans. These people were called "kinfolk", and Mark was only just beginning to learn of the deep divisions between the Garou and their so-called kin.

Mark walked through the streets up to a certain house. Normally, he'd keep to himself and wouldn't bother anybody, but this was important. In the hours since his return from New York earlier that day, nobody had attended to his arm, despite Burke worrying about it. Everybody was too busy preparing for the celebration and drunken partying feasts to care. Now Mark needed medical attention and apparently Kinfolk lived at this address, one of whom was a doctor. The other Garou had assured him that this man was available 24 hours a day for a Garou. Mark put his ear on the door and listened inside. It didn't sound promising – the people inside were definitely awake, but it sounded like they were partying as well. He could hear loud music playing, and the sound of people laughing. Mark sighed, hoped they were not too drunk, and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately he could hear shouting from inside the residence. The house, which had previously been loud and rowdy, suddenly became deathly quiet as the music was turned off and everybody inside the house froze. Mark strained his ears and could hear hushed whispers, but he couldn't tell what they were saying. Eventually, the door opened a crack.

"You're one of them," said a voice. There was no hello, no greeting. The voice was straight to the point and tinged with scorn.

Mark thought for a moment, thinking up several different replies, but eventually decided to ignore the statement. "I heard there was a doctor living here. I broke my arm a few days ago and I need it looked at." He raised his injured arm to show it off.

A second voice called out from behind the door, this one much younger. "Don't listen to him – it's just a trick! They can heal themselves!"

The door closed for a moment and sounds of an argument could be heard. Finally, the door opened up again, to reveal a tall, dark haired man with a short beard. "Fine. Come in and follow me. Don't go anywhere I don't tell you to go. "

This man doesn't like me, Mark thought. Almost immediately, he realized that statement was not quite correct. He could tell it in the way the man stared at him, the nervous glances towards the far rooms. No. This man is afraid of me. Why is that?

The man led Mark to a room that seemed to double as a doctor's clinic for wounds. A medical bed was in the centre, surrounded by cabinets full of medical supplies. The man ordered Mark to sit on the bed, which he did so. He then examined the arm carefully.

"Who set this?" he asked after a while.

"I did," Mark replied.

"I can tell. It's a horrible, amateurish job and you've done it all wrong. The wound's infected and it won't heal right as it is. I'll need to re-set it completely or you'll never be able to use your arm right again. It's going to hurt. That okay with you?"

Mark nodded. "Go ahead." Go ahead and take all your anger issues about Garou out on my arm. He didn't even bother to close his eyes, didn't even blink as the man grabbed his arm and pulled it in various directions, pulling bones and ligaments into proper alignment. Oh sure, it hurt, but that was life. The pain wasn't important.

There was something Mark wanted to ask, however. "You don't like the Garou. What did they do to you?"

The man stiffened and cast an unconscious glance towards the far rooms. "It's – it's nothing. I serve the Garou with honor." He spoke as though he was reciting a script, speaking by rote instead of from the heart. "The Garou serve me honorably and I serve them honorably."

You're lying, Mark thought. He decided to press the issue. "Are the Garou good people?"

"No," the man replied. Almost immediately he nearly panicked. "AH! I mean yes. YES! They're wonderful people. They're saving all of humanity from the Wyrm. They are beloved of Gaia." He finished bandaging Mark's arm. "I've finished with your arm now. You can leave now."

Mark knew exactly what the man was thinking. You can leave now. Please, please leave! And never come back!

"Thank you for helping me," Mark told the man. "Farewell."

He left the house behind. Almost as soon as he was out the door, the music started up again.

Dawn came to reveal a half trashed pub, with several bleary eyed werewolves sprawled everywhere. In the bunks where the Cliaths used to sleep, several Garou lay face down in their beds, with pillows stuffed over the ears, trying to block out the light. Mark was one of the few who had not drunk copious amounts of alcohol the night before and was thus the only member of the group of newly passed Garou who was up at 10:30 in the morning, which was when an elder male of the Sept sneaked into the room and gave an enormous howl, waking everyone up.

"Come on, come on!" He yelled. "Rise and shine, cubs!"

Matthew Reiwoldt groaned in bed and flailed. "We're not cubs anymore. We graduated yesterday. Or, did we? I can't remember..." He held his head, feeling a headache coming on. "Oooh, the light's so bright..."

"Just shift form and your body will regenerate the toxin." The Elder told him. "Don't tell me a little alcohol is all it takes to knock you flat! I thought you were a warrior of Gaia!"

"Fine, Fine, I'll get up!" Matthew moaned. "Just as soon as the room stops spinning..."

Wish some persuasion and some shifting between forms, the Garou were up and out of bed and in more or less a conscious state. They assembled outside their room as per the Elder's instructions.

"Listen here," Charlotte told the other three. She was back in her natural Crinos form, all the better to look intimidating in front of the others. "We will be forming a pack together. I'm Alpha. You all agree?"

Ford blinked. "Actually, I think that Mark-rhya should be –'

The Crinos bayed at the others, snarling and growling and baring her teeth. "I AM ALPHA of the pack. Does anybody wish to challenge me?"

There was a long pause as Ford, Matthew and Mark looked at each other. Mark shrugged.

It doesn't matter who's in charge. I'm going to abandon you at the drop of a hat, anyway.

"Good," Charlotte growled.

"Okay," Matthew said eagerly. "But we need to come up with a cool name for our pack. How about... Super Mutant Ninja Werewolves!"

The other three stared at him. Super Mutant Ninja – What?

Charlotte shook her head. "No. We will call ourselves the Children of Fenrir. That is my decision, and as alpha you will all agree."

"Hey!" Ford yelled. "We can't just name ourselves after an Incarna Spirit without asking their permission! We have to first ask them if they'll be our Totem."

"Exactly," Charlotte told him. "Great Fenris Wolf is already my tribe totem; therefore he should become the pack totem. With my personal guidance, I will lead this pack to become the greatest pack ever. Of course he will agree to become our Totem."

You are absolutely full of it, Mark thought to himself. You're rude, you're obnoxious and you're arrogant. You're not my problem, though.

There was a bark from further up the road. The new pack looked up and saw one of the Elders of the Sept walking towards them. Behind him strode a dark figure that looked a lot like a large canine.

"Is that..." Matthew strained his sight, trying to look. "A Lupus? Our new packmate is a Lupus?"

Lupus – a Garou born as a wolf. There were three breeds of Garou, representing what they'd been before they experienced their First Change: a homid, a Metis and a Lupus. Despite the wordings of the Litany, Mark had noticed that the vast majority of Garou he'd seen all appeared to be Metis Garou, the spawn of two werewolves. Slightly less common, but still numerous were Homid Garou like himself, werewolves born as ordinary humans. Rarest of all were the Lupus, or Wolf-born Garou. As the Elder and the Lupus grew closer they could see that the Lupus was indeed a wolf, with coal black fur and glittering yellow eyes, not like the Lupus at the Sept that were closer in colour to dingoes or feral dogs.

Then, as the Elder and the lupus got even closer, the Lupus turned to the right. And there, on the wolf's left side, was a shock of blazing red fur in the shape of three diagonal marks, as though it had been slashed on the side and the wound had never healed.

"Ooooooh..." Matthew whispered. "That's bad news, mate. It's a Red Talon!"

"A Red Talon!" Ford Falcon hissed. "Our new pack mate is a Red Talon?!"

Even Charlotte seemed shocked by this development. "Why is it here? Why us?"

Mark had learned from his teachings that there were 12 tribes of the Garou Nation, each originating from a different part of the world and each with a different outlook on life. Most of the tribes were favourable towards humans. But there was one tribe which consisted solely of wolf born Garou. It pushed forwards wolf rights and wolf politics. It possessed the most extreme views against humanity, believing them responsible for causing the world's ills and deserving to be slaughtered to a man. There was one tribe that hated all humanity.

That tribe was the Red Talons. And now one of their tribe had joined the newly formed pack.

If the Elder noticed the tension rising in the area, he took no notice of it. "Ah, the very group I was expecting to see. Have you made your decision?"

There was a short pause, before Charlotte realized what the Elder had said. "We have decided to become a pack together," she spoke finally, never averting her eyes from the Lupus for a second.

"Good, good," the Elder nodded. Beside him, the Lupus stared back at the pack emotionlessly. "The other Elders of the Sept and I have decreed that this will be your final pack member." He turned to face the Lupus. "Her Homid name shall be Rita Wolf."

The Lupus stepped forward and spoke in the language of wolves. "Know me. I am Hunts With A Single Claw, Lupus Ahroun and Cliath of the Red Talons."

"Another Ahroun..." Ford whispered. "Now we just need a Galliard and we'll be a full pack."

The wolf continued. "I do not know you. Tell me your names."

The four Garou introduced themselves in the Garou traditional way of name, breed, auspice and tribe. The Lupus showed no real reaction, even when Mark referred to himself not by his Garou name, but by Mark Allen. Everybody else used their Garou name, however.

"Now I know you," the Lupus spoke. "Know me. Know that I pledge my fangs, my body and my life to this pack until the day of my death. Know that I will never abandon you. Know that I expect the same of all of you."

"Excellent," The Elder smiled cheerfully. "I'll leave you to get acquainted, then." And he walked off. As soon as he was out of the picture, the arguments and the confusion started.

Charlotte started off the proceedings. "Listen to me, Hunts with a Single Claw. I'm the alpha. You do what I say. Understand?"

The wolf looked at the nine foot Crinos monster without a trace of emotion. "I understand but I do not agree. Prove yourself. I challenge you."

For a moment, Charlotte was caught speechless by someone actually challenging her authority. Then she bared her teeth in barely concealed Rage. "I accept your challenge. I challenge you to a duel, your Lupus form against my Crinos form."

The wolf's yellow eyes glinted. "I accept your challenge." Then they both turned towards Mark.

Mark blinked. Why are they staring at me?

Several awkward minutes passed, before finally Charlotte lost her patience. "Are you going to approve this challenge or not, Philodox?"

Oh, right. Mark remembered now. I'm supposed to be a judge and a referee because I was born under a certain phase of the moon. Garou mysticism again.

He sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I approve the challenge in the spirit of Garou tradition and all that." Boooring.

"I give the wolf ten seconds before it drops. If it survives longer than that I'll surrender. Are the conditions of the duel agreeable?" Charlotte asked.

Mark shrugged again. "Yeah, they're agreeable."

Matthew blinked. "You sure about that, Warrior of Ice? It's a nine foot half a ton death beast with gigantic claws and teeth versus an ordinary wolf. You're not biased, are you?"

Mark shook his head. Being in their breed forms meant they were in the forms most comfortable for each of them. They knew their forms inside and out. Besides, who wouldn't want to see a death match between a werewolf and an ordinary wolf?

There was another long awkward pause, before finally Charlotte poked Mark again. "Are you going to signal this duel to start?"

Mark shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Begin."

He could tell from Charlotte's body language that she was supremely confident. She held her tail high and her posture was strong and defiant. In her Crinos form, she believed she was invincible.

Mark had never seen a wolf in real life before now. Matthew had seen wolves, but only at the local zoo. Ford had lived in the Sept all his life and had seen Garou in Lupus form. But none of them had ever seen a wolf move as fast as this one did.

It was like a blur. One moment the wolf was crouched and cautious, and then as Charlotte lunged towards it with teeth bared and claws extended, the wolf had vanished. It jumped, far higher than any wolf had a right to jump, clean over the top of Charlotte's head, before landing behind her. Then it lunged, jaws extended, to clamp around her throat. The whole maneuver had taken less than a second.

Charlotte howled in rage and fury. The wolf's bite was not hard enough to badly injure her, but it still hurt, both physically and mentally. She whirled around and around, trying to dislodge the wolf from her neck, but to no avail.

Charlotte's fighting style was all out attack – the best defense, in her opinion, was a good offense. Anybody with a little bit of combat sense could see straight through her weaknesses. The Lupus form was the most agile out of all of the forms, making it a simple matter to dodge the initial charge and exploit her openings.

The battle went just as I thought it would, Mark thought to himself.

Ten seconds went by, then twenty, and still the Wolf held on. Finally, Matthew poked Mark in the ribs.

Reluctantly, Mark was forced to stop the battle. "She's defeated you, Charlotte. Give up."

Charlotte howled in Rage. For a moment, it looked as though she was going to go into a Frenzy state again, like she had when Mark beat her up in fighting practice. Finally, she lay on the ground and tapped on the ground, signalling a submission.

But the wolf didn't let go. In a flash, Mark realized what had happened. "Single Claw, stop," he told the Wolf. When that didn't work, he shifted his own form to Glabro, the near man form, then ran into the fight, grabbed the wolf around its waist and pulled it off Charlotte. His ordinary human form didn't possess the physical strength he needed to grab hold of a struggling wolf.

The Wolf let go of Charlotte but continued to flail around in his arms, snarling and biting. "Let go of me, APE!"

"Calm down," Mark told the wolf. "The ten seconds are up and Charlotte surrendered by tapping on the ground."

"I do not accept her submission," The Wolf growled, still struggling. "She did not lie down and bare her throat in the proper form."

"I know," Mark nodded. "Tapping out is a gesture based on human signals. You probably didn't understand it. The battle is over. You've won."

Finally, the wolf stopped struggling and Mark set her down on the ground, returning to his normal human form. His forearms were covered in cuts and gashes from her scrabbling claws and biting teeth, but he ignored the pain.

Charlotte struggled back to her feet, cursing, the wounds on her neck already mostly healed. "Let's make it two wins out of three."

"Oh, what?" Matthew frowned. "You sore loser!"

"Mark-rhya, you should challenge her now," Ford offered. "You're a way better fighter than all of us."

Mark shook his head. It doesn't matter who's in charge. I'm going to abandon all of you the first moment I get, anyway.

Single Claw turned to Charlotte and glanced at her nonchalantly. "Stay down," she told the other Garou. "Do not lose your honor for making stupid challenges."

Charlotte snarled. "I won't lose any honor if I beat you. Let's fight another duel. A staring contest." She began staring into the wolf's eyes.

"That won't be necessary," said a voice from behind them, "because I am going to be your leader for the time being."

Everybody turned around to see a skinny, sandy haired man in old jeans and a tattered top. "My name's Burke, for those who don't know," he said with a smile, "And my assigned job is to babysit you Cliaths for a little bit, to ease you into Garou society."

"We don't need you," Charlotte told him. "We're already adults – we passed our Rites of Passage. We already know everything."

"Sure you do," Burke answered, nodding. "That's why you're already arguing amongst yourselves and at each other's throats. Oh sure, that's normal Garou life in a pack, and you're still setting up your hierarchy – your pecking order, so to speak. But these days, we don't have the time to simply wait for a pack to sort itself out. We need Garou ready as soon as possible."

"But why?" Matthew asked. "Why all the rush? Ever since I arrived here, it's felt like people have tried to rush me, make me a Garou as fast as they can? They trained me to fight and pointed me at an enemy called the Wyrm, but nobody will tell me why we need to fight."

It was Ford who answered his question. "You're homid, therefore you don't know: The world is about to end."

Mark blinked. Single Claw stared at the ground. Burke nodded solemnly and Matthew's mouth dropped open. "It's going to WHAT?"

It's called "The Prophecy of the Phoenix," Burke explained. "But to first understand the Prophecy, you need to know the secrets of the Wyrm and the Triat. This is important information, not something we simply hand out to homid cubs willy-nilly."

Again, proof that the Garou do not trust humanity, Mark thought.

"What is the Wyrm? It is one of three forces of nature. The Wyld is the force of chaos and creation, the Weaver the force of stagnation, order and law. Originally, the Wyrm was little more than balance and neutrality, the force of nature that regulated the flow of the other two, preventing each from becoming too powerful and disrupting the balance."

"But now, the balance is lost and the world is dying," Ford said with a mournful voice.

"It is dying because of what the humans have done," Single Claw spoke.

"Indeed it is," Burke nodded. "For years, the three forces were in balance and all was peaceful and good with the world. We Garou were the greatest of Mother Gaia's creations and it was our task to protect and serve humanity and the wolves alike. But the Weaver hungered for more and more power for its chosen species, the humans. When the Wyrm tried to stop it, the Weaver trapped it within its web of patterns. The Wyrm went insane."

"Seriously?" Matthew asked. "A force of nature went insane?"

"It did. The balance was irrevocably damaged, tilted in favor of the Weaver. The Wyrm, instead of seeking balance, now seeks destruction and decay. It seeks to destroy all of existence. Thus did Mother Gaia give us our new and sacred task: to destroy the Wyrm, mercy killing it before it can break free of the pattern web.

"The Wyrm is the cause of the state of the world we're in now. It's the cause of all death and suffering. But at the moment we are only witnessing a tiny sliver of the Wyrm's power. What sort of horror and destruction would happen were the Wyrm to break free of its prison?"

Matthew shrugged. This discussion was too deep for him to fathom. Whilst Single Claw and the two Metis Garou were nodding earnestly, Mark and Matthew were completely in other their heads and barely able to comprehend the situation.

"So we come to the Prophecy of the Phoenix, which details six signs before the final sign, the time when the Wyrm breaks free of its prison and destroys all of existence. It is the belief of many that five of these signs have already appeared and we are merely awaiting the arrival of the sixth."

Burke stared at Mark and Matthew.

"There is no more time to dilly-dally around and go through this leadership teething process. There is no more time left."